Friday, June 15, 2012



Sitting at my desk
I look out across the scene,
The empty seat, the mists that rise
And I wonder what they mean. 

I see her sitting there
And yet I know it cannot be.
For many years have gone
Since she walked with me. 

I feel her tender touch
As she would take my hand and walk,
Sometimes in quiet solitude
And yet at times we would walk. 

I look again and see her leaving
But she was never in this place,
She turns and smiles at me
I remember her lovely face. 

Seasons come and seasons go
The mists rise and fall,
Yet she visits me so often
Such memories I recall. 

Tis only in this season
When autumn chills the air
That she makes her presence felt,
And shows her tender care.

It is my favourite season
And I know she loved it too,
So we share a rendezvous,
In the mists and in the dew.

She was special in my life
And loved me like no other,
I am proud to see her in the mist  ~
My precious, much loved Grandmother. 

© Linda J. Vaughan
May 3rd. 2009

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